


The Doctor Who...

by zombiechick



Series: The Doctor Who... [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4809401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiechick/pseuds/zombiechick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some cute little drabbles on the theme of the Doctor invading Clara's life.  Rated E for later chapters.  As always, my writing eventually becomes smut.  Please forgive any mistakes as my regular beta is far too busy with real life to fix my commas and such.  Comments are hugely appreciated as I am a total comment whore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Came For a Bath

Clara rode home on her motorbike, grinning happily. The crisp autumnal air washed over her bringing the spicy scents of falling leaves and wood smoke. It was a Friday afternoon in late September- a magical time. The new school year hadn't progressed far enough for the constricting bonds of work to have loosened. Every morning, getting up and getting to school still felt like a chore. 

This week in particular had been frantic with testing and so Clara had told the Doctor to leave her be until Friday. He pointed out, unnecessarily, that the TARDIS was a time machine and so didn't have to be reserved for weekend trips. He could keep her on schedule. 

Clara pointed out that not everyone had the luxury of taking standy-up catnaps. "I need time to lesson plan, grade, sleep, eat, bathe, etc."

He'd rolled his eyes and thrown up his hands in annoyance and told her that he'd see her on Friday. 

Now, giddy with excitement, Clara unlocked the door of her flat. The TARDIS already waited in her living room but the Doctor was nowhere to be found. Calling his name, Clara quickly searched the tiny flat.

She was quite confused until she noticed that the door to the bathroom was slightly open; a thin steam emitted from the doorway.

Poking her head inside, she saw a familiar pair of black trousers, a dark hoodie, and a t-shirt folded and sitting on the edge of the sink. The Doctor's boots, with socks tucked inside, sat on the floor next to the waste bin.

Biting her lower lip to keep from giggling, knowing that she was being a bit intrusive, despite the Doctor's obvious intrusion into her flat, she craned her head around the edge of the door jam.

The Timelord in question was much too tall for Clara's tiny bath but he'd managed to make himself relatively comfortable. Head laying back on a rolled up towel, hair damp from the steam so that the curls were especially prominent, his bare arms rested on the sides. Clara couldn't help but giggle softly at the way his legs, bent at the knees, protruded from the mounds of bubbles that created a modest cover.

The sparse grey hair on his bare chest curled softly against his flesh that was reddened by the heat from the water in which he lounged. She assumed that he was sleeping, or at least taking a catnap, his eyes being hidden behind a pair of Raybans, because he didn't seem to register her presence at all.

Clara poked her head in still further, fingers circling tightly against the door jam, as her eyes scanned his near nudity. The presence of the bubbles piqued her curiosity; she couldn't help but wonder what lurked beneath the sudsy water.

"Getting a good look?"

Clara squeaked, jumping slightly, at the Doctor's murmured question before ducking back around the door frame. Leaning against the wall in the hallway, she giggled with embarrassment at being caught. She heard the Doctor stand up out of the tub, trying not to think of the way that the water and bubbles were sluicing down his naked frame. She could hear him step out of the tub and rummage through the small cupboard for a towel.

"You really need to buy some larger towels," he complained, "these ones leave nothing to the imagination."

Blocking her view with one hand, her cheeks flaming, Clara sprinted to the living room before the Doctor could exit and show her how little her bath towels covered.


	2. Came For Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut yet, though a bit of suggestion. The Doctor crashes Clara's flat on a Saturday morning.

Clara sat down heavily at her kitchen table. She pulled her steaming mug of tea closer, willing it to make her feel slightly more human.

"You're hung over."

Clara screamed, sloshing some of the hot tea over her hand. "Bloody hell," she swore as she turned to see the Doctor leaning against the door jam at the entrance to her kitchen.

"Don't want that to leave a mark," he commented as he grabbed a washcloth from a kitchen drawer, soaked it with cold water, and applied it to Clara's hand.

"Thank you," she murmured closing her eyes once again.

"You're hung over," he repeated.

"I know, yeah?" she said quietly trying to rub the headache away. "Dull staff party; all there was to do was drink."

"So, I've got just the thing," the Doctor told her as he arranged a myriad of bottles on the counter. "It'll fix you right up," he promised as he opened her fridge and grabbed a Coke out of the door.

Clara watched him, out of the one eye that would stay open. The Doctor flipped bottles and poured liquids, dropped in a tablet, working like a bartender at an overpriced cocktail lounge. Clara groaned at the color of the concoction.

The Doctor's final move was to pop open the tab on the Coke and add a good portion of its contents. He walked toward her, stirring his potion with a teaspoon, "Now, drink it all down in one go. It'll taste horrific but you'll feel amazingly better afterward."

Clara crinkled her nose at the proffered beverage, "Pass," she moaned as she transferred the moist towel to the back of her neck.

The attack eyebrows lowered, "Drink it or I'll you lay you down on the floor, straddle you with my knees on your arms and pour it down your throat."

Clara winced as she let loose a bark of laughter at the ridiculous mental image. "Even with this crushing hangover, I could still take you."

The Doctor grinned at her, "Let's pencil that in for a later date, shall we? Now, do as you're told; drink."

Clara held her nose, opened her mouth, screwed her eyes closed and downed the entire contents of the glass. With her final swallow, she gagged and slammed the glass down on the table gasping for air.

The Doctor remained bent at the knees, watching her closely, "Wow, if that's how you normally take a pint, no wonder you're hung over."

"You told me to drink it in one go," Clara protested.

"That's just because I figured you'd chunder otherwise."

"I can't win with you, can I?" Clara laughed. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she sat up straighter in her chair, "It worked," she exclaimed.

"Told you it would," the Doctor answered her smugly.

Clara dragged her hands through her hair and straightened her pajamas, "Old Gallifreyan recipe?" she asked.

"Naw," the Doctor explained, "got it off of Keith Richards; that man can drink."

"Was there something that you wanted?" Clara asked as she sipped her tea.

"Pancakes," the Doctor stated.

"You wanted pancakes, so you came here," Clara said for clarification.

"I thought that you could make them for me," he smiled sweetly. "I've just saved you from, what felt to you like, certain death. The least you can do is make me some pancakes."

Clara laughed at the absurdity of the situation, "Fine, shove over, I'll make you pancakes."

She moved to the cooker and started pulling out ingredients. The Doctor reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a small bottle of golden liquid, "I brought the syrup," he said proudly.


	3. Came For a Cuddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes some advice about improving his mood. The smut cometh next chapter.

Clara Oswald woke quite suddenly out of a sound sleep. Blinking her eyes owlishly, trying to discover the nature of the disturbance, she scanned her dark bedroom. Just when she had decided it had only been a dream, she heard, "Clara" in a very familiar Scottish brogue, hissed directly into her ear.

Sighing, she rolled over to see the Doctor crouched next to her bed. "Yeah?" she asked blurrily as she grabbed her cell to check the time. Noting that it was two in the morning and a school night no less, she groaned and reached out a hand to push at his chest, shoving the Doctor away from her bed.

"I need a thing," he whispered.

"What kind of thing?" she asked while grabbing her pillow and fluffing it viciously.

"Well, you see, I was on Acralia Prime and this woman accused me of being rude and inhospitable."

"No," Clara murmured, her sarcasm missed by the Doctor, "you?"

"I know, yeah? She said she thought I hadn't gotten enough cuddles as a child. You know how I'm trying to be a good man, so..."

Clara looked up disbelievingly, "Are you asking for a cuddle?"

"I thought that this would be the best time seeing as how you're already asleep."

"Was asleep," Clara grumped.

"I didn't want to just crawl in; I didn't want to be intrusive."

"Never stopped you before." Clara felt herself drifting back to sleep but the feel of the Doctor's gaze on the back of her neck kept sleep at bay. Clara sighed and gave in, "Come on then," she mumbled as she lifted the duvet behind her and scooted over.

"Actually," the Doctor said as he walked around to the other side of the bed and stooped to take off his boots and socks, "I was thinking I should be on the other side. Wouldn't want to suffocate on your hair."

"Mmm hmmm," Clara said sleepily as she moved back to her previous position.

"Great," the Doctor smiled as he removed his jacket, hoodie, and jumper.

When Clara felt the bed dip a few moments later, she reached out and wrapped an arm around him, "There," she murmured, "cuddles."

The Doctor sighed contentedly, "Much better than a hug."

Clara squeaked as a pair of hairy legs wrapped around her own, that were only clad in pajama shorts, "Doctor, are you wearing pants?"

"Of course I am," he answered her, sounding slightly offended, "took off the trousers though; too scratchy."  
Clara smiled as he pulled her closer against him. The Doctor placed his own arm over the top of Clara's and linked his fingers with hers, placing their joined hands over his chest. Clara splayed her fingers out slightly; she could feel both the Doctor's hearts beating.

"Go back to sleep, my Clara," the Doctor said quietly.

The steady rhythms beneath her hand lulled Clara into a peaceful sleep.

DW12DW12DW12DW12

Clara's alarm clock woke her, what seemed like moments later, with its squawking. She slapped at the snooze button until the offending machine shut up. Clara was surprised to find that the Doctor was still in her bed. She could tell by his steady breathing that he was fast asleep. 

Clara smiled warmly and began attempting to extricate herself from his embrace. As much as she would have loved a lie-in, she had a classroom full of students to get to, papers to grade, and staff meetings to attend. She was successful in sliding her legs out from in between the Doctor's, which had remained wrapped around her own, but her arm was more difficult.

The Doctor still grasped her hand and, when she tried to slide from his grasp, he only held her tighter. "Doctor," she whispered toward his ear, "I've got to get up."

"My Clara," he answered sleepily and pulled her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on her finger tips.

Clara's mouth opened slightly, a shocked look on her face. The Doctor let go of her hand and slid his own arm back to cup her backside. He pulled her to him, grinding his hip back against her. Clara shuddered as the Doctor's fingers tightened on her ass, encouraging her to move against him.

"Doctor," Clara whispered, ending his name with a quiet moan.

"Clara," the Doctor answered back before turning over and taking her into his arms. He nuzzled his face against her bare collarbone, moving aside the thin strap of her tank top.

She groaned quietly as his early morning stubble rasped against her skin. Wrapping her arms around him, feeling the heat from his body through the thin t-shirt that he wore, Clara sighed as the Doctor slid his knee between her legs.

Clara's hands moved down his back, sliding under his t-shirt and stroking up his spine to circle his shoulder blades. The Doctor's hands were both on her ass now, pulling her hard against him. Clara noted that Gallifreyans didn't seem to be immune to the state that human men often endured in the morning. "You must be awake by now," she said, as the Doctor kissed her neck gently.

"If I could wake up like this every morning," he murmured, "I might actually bother with more than standy-up cat naps."

The blaring of the alarm cut off Clara's reply. She reached back and, grasping the chord, pulled it from the wall. The Doctor chuckled at the violence with which she swept the alarm onto the floor. 

"I think the cuddles have improved your mood," she said as the Doctor kissed her bare shoulders and the swell of her breasts.

"A very clever thing," he agreed.

Placing both hands alongside his face, Clara pulled the Doctor to her for a soft kiss, "Could we do this properly? Maybe a bit later?" she asked him.

The Doctor didn't answer at first as he was much too preoccupied by Clara's warm mouth on his own. When she broke the kiss to run her lips along his jaw line, he smiled, "We've got all the time we need."

She planted another soft kiss on his lips and said, "Meet me here after school."

"Yes, Boss," he answered as he watched Clara crawl out of bed. Resting his hands behind his head, reclining on the pillows, he watched her bustle around the room.

She turned to see him smiling smugly. Heading to the bathroom for a quick shower, Clara returned his smile, "I'll just think of you like that for the rest of the day."

"While you're supposed to be educating the youth of Britain; shame on you," he chuckled.


	4. Stayed for a Shag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara finds her sanity. This was actually going to go a bit differently, at least at the beginning, but I changed things up due to lovely protest in the comments. Ask and you shall receive.

The Doctor lay in bed for several minutes after hearing the door close. He was seriously thinking about just going back to sleep. The bed still smelled, wonderfully, of Clara and he didn't have anything pressing to do. He grabbed up her pillow and pulled it to him, laying his head upon it, nuzzling the pillowcase. He could detect hints of her perfume and her shampoo. "Maybe I'll just nip out and save a planet or two while she's away at school," he mused.

He was wishing that he had a chalkboard to work out the pros and cons of his situation when he heard the door of the flat open again. "Hellooo?" he called out as he slid toward the side of the bed where his trousers were puddled on the floor, feeling a bit naked without his Ray-bans.

Moments later, the bedroom door was thrown open and a laughing Clara launched herself onto the bed. Crawling up toward a grinning Doctor, until she sat astride his hips, she quickly divested herself of her jacket. "Hello," she chirped.

"School canceled?" the Doctor asked. He rested his hands on Clara's hips and gazed over-exaggeratedly toward the window, "Is there some horrible crisis that requires my attention?"

She laughed and began unbuttoning her blouse, "Nope, just changed my mind. Called in sick."

The Doctor watched her take off her blouse and toss it to the floor. He licked his lips at the lovely camisole she wore beneath, "Oooh, so I get to be a disruptive influence today?"

"Yes, you do," Clara affirmed as she crawled over him, still atop the blankets, and rested her hands on either side of his head.

"That's my favorite thing to be," he grinned.

"I know it," she laughed and leaned down to kiss him softly.

The Doctor arched up to meet Clara's kiss. His body was effectively trapped beneath the blankets but his hands were free. He slid them back and over her ass as Clara peppered his face and neck with kisses. Sitting back, she moved her hips against him, grinding slowly.

He groaned loudly and threw his head back against the pillows. Clara took the opportunity to swipe her tongue slowly up his throat. She ended the movement of her tongue with a nip, closing her teeth around the the curve of his neck.

The Doctor reached his long fingers under the hem of the short black skirt that Clara wore. His fingertips found the edge of the material that was nestled against her thighs. "Stockings," he moaned.

Clara chuckled and took his earlobe between her lips, sucking gently. Feeling his fingers nearing the edge of her knickers, Clara jumped back a bit. "Not so fast, Doctor. Stay."

He did as he was told, watching as she leaned over and rummaged around in the drawer of her nightstand. Leaning forward he was just able to reach the patch of bare stomach that her motion was exposing. When he placed warm kisses on her stomach, Clara sighed happily.

Their eyes locked and Clara held up two silk scarves, waving them as a grin suffused her face. "What are those for?" the Doctor asked with interest.  


Rather than telling, Clara showed him, grabbing up one of his hands from her ass and placing it against the slats of her headboard. The Doctor could only watch, mouth hanging open a bit, as she immobilized first one and then the other hand with the scarves. He tested his bonds, mostly for show, and smiled up at his captor.

"Told you that I could take you, yeah?" she answered his smile with one of her one.

"Not complaining."

"Well, then, I've definitely done the impossible," Clara smiled. 

The Doctor gave a mewl of protest as Clara moved off of him to stand next to the bed. "Clara," he almost whined.

She flashed him a triumphant grin before bending down to take off her shoes. The Doctor eyed her lovely curves and pulled at the scarves theatrically. Clara laughed at him as she pulled off her stockings. 

"Leave those on, Clara; just those."

"You don't get a vote," she answered him cheekily. Reaching underneath her skirt, she shimmied out of her knickers and then tossed them onto the end of the bed. 

Her skirt joined the pile of clothing on the floor, followed by her camisole. Clara turned back around and stalked to the bed. Climbing over the blankets so that she, once again, sat astride the Doctor, she bit at her lower lip. 

Stroking her hands over his chest, and up his neck, to bury her fingers in his hair she told him, "This time, I'm in control. So, you'll have to do as you're told."

"Still not complaining," the Doctor grinned as Clara leaned forward to rub her bare breasts against his t-shirt clad chest. Motioning as best as he could with his hands bound he told her, "Come up here; I want to taste you, my Clara."

"No," she answered him, tugging on his hair for emphasis.

"No?" he asked incredulously. "You have a man whose sexual experience spans over two millennia, and you're saying 'No?"

Clara's chuckle had a slight edge of malevolence that made the Doctor shudder, "I think that, as your companion, I should help you in your quest to develop better social skills."

"I promise, I have some highly developed social skills in this area." He bumped his hips upward in an attempt to move her toward his mouth, "Let me show you. Come here," he motioned to her with his chin.

Clara leaned back , spreading her thighs to give him a better view, and ran her hand over her sex. "I think that you need to ask nicely," she cooed as she slipped just the tips of her fingers between his lips so that he could get a little taste.  


Just as the Doctor's tongue was reaching out to lick her fingertips, she pulled her hand away and returned to stroking herself. Allowing her fingers to slide between her lips, collecting up some of the moisture that pooled there in order to circle her clit, Clara moaned.

The Doctor's eyes had become feverish, his gaze wolf-like and hungry as he watched her, "I know you want it," he growled, "I can smell you. No need to take care of things yourself when I'm here."

Clara groaned as she slid a finger inside herself, "Such an ego," she chastised. Adding a second finger, she gasped as she established a rhythm.

The Doctor had a front row seat as Clara's hands worked in her favorite pattern. Her thumb teasing her stiff clit as she pumped her fingers inside herself. "I've imagined you in my bed so many times while I touched myself like this," she admitted, panting with desire.

"But, Clara," the Doctor almost whined as he leaned as far forward as his bonds would allow, "I'm here now." He licked at his lips as his hands formed into fists, knuckles whitening with the strain.

"Just makes it that much better," she moaned as a familiar tingle began in her toes.

Willing himself to not simply tear through the scarves and devour her, he asked between tightly clenched teeth, "What do I have to do?"

"Ask nicely," Clara answered him, "use your words," she smiled and pressed down on her clit with her thumb, arching her back.

"I don't know...," the Doctor swallowed hard, "Please?" he asked with uncertainty, "Please, Clara?" he begged, his voice trembling slightly.

Clara favored him with a sweet smile, "Good Doctor," she murmured and stilled her hands. Moving her hands away from between her thighs, she scooted up further until her sex was positioned directly above the Doctor's mouth. Reaching out, she took his hands in her own, threading their fingers together as she lower herself to his waiting mouth.

"Thank you, Clara," the Doctor murmured against her wetness, "thank you."

Clara moaned loudly as the Doctor licked up through her wet folds with the flat of his tongue. Tilting his head up he took in her juices. Rather than just using his mouth, the Doctor practically used his entire face to worship her. The tip of his nose rubbed against Clara's clit as his tongue plunged inside her again and again.

He rubbed the morning stubble on his cheeks back and forth against the insides of her thighs as his chin pressed hard between her legs, creating a lovely pressure that she could grind against. He lapped at her sex, his tongue curling around her clit. He took the stiff peak between his lips, sucking and licking until Clara was a sobbing mess.

Her fingers tightened on his own, her hips circling on his mouth until she came apart. With a hoarse shout of pleasure, Clara threw her head back, shaking and writhing on his face as she screamed, "Doctor, oh Doctor!!"

Releasing his fingers, Clara fell back on the free side of the bed, limp as a rag doll. A few moments later, she was brought back from the daze that she floated in by the sound of two silk scarves ripping simultaneously. She looked up in time to see the Doctor tear the remnants of the cloth from his wrists and toss them to the floor.

With a growl of triumph, he surged out from under the blankets. Clara was too limp to do anything but watch him coming at her, quickly pulling off his boxers and t-shirt before throwing them to floor. "My turn," he said with a feral grin, attack eyebrows in place.

Clara didn't have a moment to think before she was gathered up in the Doctor's arms. His fevered kiss left the taste of Clara's own sex on her lips as he spread her thighs and settled between them. "Doctor," she moaned as he ran the length of his erection along her sex that still thrummed with her orgasm.

"I should make you wait," he groaned as he took first one nipple then the other between his lips and teased them with tongue and teeth. "I should make you beg me," he continued as he circled her clit with the head of his cock.

Clara laughed quietly as she reached for him, wrapping him in her arms. They both sighed happily at the skin to skin contact. "Could we pencil that in for later?" she asked cheekily.

The Doctor gave a chuckle before positioning himself and thrusting forward. He buried himself completely in the wet heat of her, clenching his teeth and murmuring lovely sounding words in his native tongue when Clara's legs wrapped around his lower back. 

Hugging her tightly to him, placing soft kisses on her face and mouth, he moved his hips, filling her again and again. Placing one hand on her lower back, the Doctor tilted Clara's hips to gain a different angle. Clara's eyes flew open and she groaned loudly as he reached places inside her that she hadn't even known were there. 

Raising her legs still higher on his back, Clara's breath soon became ragged with moaning. "Clara, my Clara," the Doctor chanted as they rocked together in a wonderful rhythm. 

Her blunt fingernails running down his shoulders and back, Clara caught the Doctor's mouth in a deep kiss. When she sucked his tongue into her mouth to mimic the movements of his hips, the Doctor groaned with reaction. Being the clever girl that she was, Clara reached between them, her hand returning to her own clit, rubbing at the stiff peak. 

The Doctor broke the kiss to rub his stubbled cheek down the length of Clara's jaw before finding a spot on her shoulder to carefully sink his teeth into her flesh. Clara stopped the movements of her hand as a familiar wave of feelings overtook her. Shouting into the stillness of the bedroom, Clara called out his name over and over again.

The gripping muscles of Clara's sex massaged the Doctor's shaft and, with a shout to match Clara's, he stilled momentarily before his eyes went wide. Giving several more long thrusts, he emptied himself inside of her. 

Rolling onto the other side of the bed, and quickly gathering Clara's limp form against his own until she was nestled at his side, "I hope none of your neighbors call 999," he panted.

"Wha?" Clara asked him in between panting breaths.

"You screamed my name so many times; they may think it's a medical emergency," he snickered.

Clara swatted his chest playfully, "I think that I let you off too easily," she grinned.

"We have all the time we need to practice your domineering sexual acts," he assured her. 

Clara rolled her eyes as she laughed and reached up to plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.


End file.
